


Wyle E. Coyote

by loveinadoorway



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Humor, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:27:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/230036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveinadoorway/pseuds/loveinadoorway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Title: Wyle E. Coyote<br/>Paring: Steve/Danny, the 74 Mercury Marquis<br/>Genre: slash<br/>Rating: PG-13 (how the hell could THAT happen)<br/>Word count: ~1877<br/>Warnings: Language, pre-slash if you squint and OMG, I got even less of a clue about cars than Danny does in this fic.<br/>Spoilers: 1.14<br/>Disclaimers: I mean them no harm and I know, they’re not mine. If they were, there would be beach parties at my house.<br/>Summary: Steve & Danny fix up the old Mercury "together", only Wyle E. Williams has a hidden agenda.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wyle E. Coyote

Danny had no clue about how cars work, really. He could drive ‘em, park ‘em, wreck ‘em, yeah, sure. He was able to change tires, put gas in the tank and refill oil and other fluids, but that was that.  
So when McGarrett, Super SEAL and mechanical genius extraordinaire, asked if Danny would want to help with his dad’s old Mercury Marquis, of course Danny had said yes in no time flat.

It wasn’t so much that he wanted to ogle his partner’s backside whenever Steve bent over the engine, he told himself. He actually wanted to learn how cars worked.  
Okay, as far as lying to oneself went, that particular lie was admittedly pretty fuckin’ flimsy.  
Maybe he could convince himself then that doing this together would help with their professional partnership? Strengthening the bond of friendship? Keep Danny off the streets and out of trouble?

Whatever.  
He handed Steve another beer, which about summed up his input to the project. Steve straightened up and took a sip and Danny was very much not watching how McGarretts Adam’s apple worked as he swallowed or how a bead of sweat was running down the side of his partner’s neck.

“Won’t be long now, Danno. We’re making good progress.”  
Steve took another sip of beer.  
Danny nodded mutely.  
“Couple more days tops and she’ll be up and running,” Steve said with an encouraging smile before ducking back down under the hood.

Danny wasn’t panicking at that, no sir, not really.  
A few more days and then there would be no more reason to come over to Steve’s place after work and on the weekends. No more of that easy camaraderie that felt so good and right. No more ogling… which he of course wasn’t doing in the first place.

What had Chin said to him, with that special smile the other man reserved for talking to absolute computer luddites like Danny? “There’s nothing on this planet that Google can’t show you.”  
So that night, Danny didn’t drive home; he went into the office and turned on his computer.

“Jeez, Danno, I know your place sucks the big one, but surely there must be better places to try for some beauty sleep than your desk?”

Steve sounded disgustingly cheerful as he slammed a mug of piping hot coffee in front of Danny, who in turn could only groan.

“And by the way, Williams, didn’t work.”  
“What?” Danny mumbled, hopelessly lost.  
“That beauty sleep thing. Might as well not bother, man, you look like shit on a stick.”

Danny flipped Steve off, which was about as eloquent as he could get at that point.  
It took him several minutes to straighten up. His neck felt like it was screwed on the wrong way.  
With a quiet curse, he quickly swiped the pages he had printed out into the desk drawer and got up to follow the others to Chin’s magic table for their morning briefing.  
He was pretty sure his head had rested on those papers when Steve had come in.

That evening, as they were working on the Marquis, Danny was tense and sweating with anticipation. The instructions had sounded easy enough, but he’d have to be fast and leave no traces.  
He had to wait for his opening an agonizing hour until Steve went into the house to take a leak.

No sooner had the garage’s connecting door closed when Danny sprang into action.  
As instructed, he located the right spot, removed the distributor cap, took the rotor out and replaced the cap within just a few minutes.

No sparks, no vroom. Nice and simple and hard to detect, or so the article in the internet had claimed. He barely had time to push the rotor in his pants pocket and return to his customary spot by the work bench, when McGarrett returned.

“Okay, let’s see if she’ll start up,” Steve announced with a happy smile.

Danny felt guilty. He really, really shouldn’t have sabotaged the car.  
It was not only Steve’s pride and joy, fixing it up was that getting close to his dead father thing and that look of eager anticipation on his partner’s face alone twisted Danny’s guts into even more tight knots of remorse.

Steve turned the key in the ignition.  
Nothing.  
Complete and utter silence, not even a cough or a sputter from the engine.  
Danny should feel smug. Mission accomplished.

“No, no, NO, NOOO, c’mon, start up,” he heard Steve say, voice rising to almost a shout, panic crunching up his features into the mother of all aneurism faces.

Danny slid his hand into his pocket and fingered the rotor. He should give the damned thing back, should act as if he’d just wanted to pull Steve’s leg and take the ensuing punishment like a man.  
Only he couldn’t.  
If he did, tonight would be the last time they would do this. So Detective Williams bit down on the impulse.

“C’mon, princess, let’s just check the whole shit once more. We’ll find the mistake YOU made and then the Mercury will purr for you, no worries,” Danny said, with enough false cheer in his voice to almost make him choke.

Feeling like the worst kind of asshole, Danny slapped Steve’s back in what he hoped was an encouraging way.  
The other man sighed, mumbled something unintelligible and then went back to work.

Five hours of methodically checking and double-checking everything Steve had previously worked on later, they called it a night.

Five days of countless calls to vintage car experts later, the engine remained silent and Danny walked around feeling as if that damned Mercury was hanging around his neck like that fucking albatross in the poem that made him damn near flunk English back in high school.

Steve remained calm and methodical in his approach to the issue, but Danny noticed the desperate looks and the encouraging pats his partner gave the engine whenever another possible problem had been checked up upon without yielding any result whatsoever.  
Then, Steve would try to start the engine and the sound of silence would fill the garage once more.

Danny didn’t know what to do anymore.  
The moment where he could’ve just passed it off as a joke was long gone. That in itself wouldn’t be so bad, but when Danny had secretly tried to replace the damned rotor four days previously, he had failed miserably. He just couldn’t get the thing back into its old spot.

He could hardly bear to watch Steve labor away for hours on end, but there was nothing he could do at this point, except wait for McGarrett to check the distributor. Which his partner never did.

Danny wanted to scream when he noticed that Steve was now starting to take the engine apart for the umpteenth time. It would take days to get everything back together and Danny KNEW Steve would once more meticulously clean and grease every single part before putting it back where it belonged.

Now, given that the bright idea behind the sabotage had been to draw out the experience, Danny should not only be happy, he should slap himself soundly on the shoulder for a job well done. So well done, in fact, that there seemed to be a clear and present danger of Steve reworking the Mercury with a fire axe sometime soon.

Late last evening, Steve had hurled something weird-shaped and metallic against the garage wall swearing a blue streak, before going back to work, stony faced and silent.  
Even Ninja SEAL’s patience seemed not to be entirely without limits.  
Who’d have thought?

By day seven, Danny had come up with a plan. Not necessarily a good one, but a workable one.  
Maybe.  
The first part of the plan involved exchanging Steve’s beer bottle for a full one several times to make sure the man’s senses were sufficiently dulled. Worked perfectly, because Steve was so intent on tightening screws and pulling on… things that he never even noticed.

Part two of Danny’s nefarious plan was the shaky bit. Danny took a deep breath, sauntered over to the car and started to potter around as if he had a clue what he was doing.  
Steve looked up, surprise on his face, but didn’t say anything. Apparently, his partner was desperate enough to think that Danny actually might have something of substance to contribute at this point.  
Danny casually dislodged the distributor cap.

“Hey, uh, Steve…?”  
“Yes, Danno?”  
“Is that thing there supposed to look like this?”

Danny held his breath and tried to keep his face neutral. Steve sighed, wiped his hands on an already oily rag and took a look. A second later, he started cursing. Not loudly, mind you. Nope, McGarrett apparently got quiet and vicious when he was REALLY angry. Incredibly vicious and very quiet.

“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, hoping he wasn’t overdoing the act.  
“Damned rotor is missing. How can the fucking rotor be missing? Man, of all the sheer dumb luck stunts you pulled, Williams, that definitely is the luckiest! Could’ve overhauled the engine for a million years. Without the motherfucking rotor, it wouldn’t EVER have started.”

On the way home, Danny still couldn’t believe he had managed to pull this off.  
Part three of the nefarious plan was what still had his guts twisted in that guilty knot, since of course finding a spare rotor for a 1974 360 hp 460-cubic-inch V-8 Marquis was damn near impossible. Danny had checked and he just couldn’t let Steve shell out major money for a part that was currently burning a hole into Danny’s glove compartment.

The next morning at the office, Danny casually tossed a smallish parcel onto Steve’s desk in passing.  
“Checked with someone I know, this should be the part you’re missing.”  
He waved off Steve’s thanks, the offer to reimburse him for the part and copious expressions of just how happy that stupid bit of metal made McGarrett.

In the evening, when Danny arrived at Steve’s place after picking up Gracie from dance class, having an insane amount of shaved ice with her (which she hopefully would never tell her mother) and taking her home after, Steve was just putting the distributor cap back on.  
So that was it, then. The end of their time together.

“Hey Danno.”  
“Hey Steve, Got her all fixed now, eh?”  
“Yeah.”

Steve clambered into the driver seat and turned the key in the ignition. The engine sprang to life with a satisfying growl.  
Danny swallowed hard. Yup, that was it for good.  
Steve turned off the engine, got out and leaned against the car next to Danny.

Danny raised his beer bottle. “To a job well done, McGarrett!”  
Steve clinked his bottle against Danny’s. His expression was guarded and his voice was soft.  
“You know, I was hoping that I don’t have to tear out another vital part of her anatomy now, just so you will still have a pretense for coming here, Danno.”

Danny choked on his beer.  
Damn that man. He should’ve known he couldn’t pull one over Super SEAL.  
Steve would make him pay for this, he was sure.  
And that somehow weirdly enough did not sound like a bad thing at all.


End file.
